every now and then

sometimes i'll be sitting in class and get a huge shining light bulb over my head, sorta like a lighthouse. one that makes me start writing down things immediately before i forget everything. i started writing this one about a friend last week thursday. it's nowhere near finished and not edited.

Dave was sick of it all. He was tired of numbers and computers and cell phones and roommates. So he decided he was through and bought a one-way ticket to Hawaii. The Big Island. His suitcase was empty except for several Hawaiian shirts, 2 pairs of khaki shorts, a compisition notebook and The Big Book on Martinis.

His new apartment, The Landing Pad, was empty, but slowly, he started collecting discared furniture he had found off the sidewalk. First there was a green couch, the color of mold, then two white chairs, cracked and peeling, then a small bamboo table with a warped glass top and a matching stoll that wobbled.

"Yes, this is quite nice," he said outloud, his voice echoing down the wall. "But there is still one thing missing."

The next day, Dave was walking down the beach, when he noticed a box labeled "Carlos" and he heard a strange whimpering sound coming from it. Inside was a tan puppy with a stubby tal and one ear.

"This is it," he said, scooping up Carlos and cradling him in his arms. "Carlos." 
¶ 10:12 PM |